The Lost Trail Part 10

"CORA! CORA!" he again called in agonized tones, but the woods gave back only the hollow echo. For a few moments he was fairly beside himself; but, at the end of that time, he began to reason more calmly.

He attempted to persuade himself that she might return, but it was useless; and with a sort of resigned despair, he looked about him for signs of the manner in which she was taken away.

The most convincing evidence was not wanting. The ground was trampled and torn, as if there had been a violent struggle; and, inexperienced as were his eyes, he detected the unmistakable impress of a moccasin upon the soft earth, and in the gra.s.s. The settle, too, was overturned and the baby lay in the gra.s.s as if tossed there by the act of some other arm, than a mother's.

CHAPTER VI.

THE LOST TRAIL.

"'Twas night--the skies were cloudless blue, And all around was hushed and still, Save paddle of the light canoe, And wailing of the whippowill."

On that sunny afternoon, the fish in a particular locality of a tributary of the Mississippi did not take the bait very well. The spot to which we refer was that immediately surrounding Teddy, whose patience was well-nigh exhausted. There he sat for several tedious hours, but had secured only two nibbles at his line, neither of which proved to be anything more.

"Begorrah, but it must be they'se frightened by meself, when that ould scalliwag give me a fling into the stream. Jabers! _wasn't_ it done nately. Hallo! there's a bite, not bigger, to be sure, than a lady's fut, but a bull-pout it is I know."

He instantly arose to his feet, as if he were about to spring in the water, and stood leaning over and scanning the point where his line disappeared in the stream, with an intense interest which the professional angler alone can appreciate. But this, like all others, proved a disappointment, and he soon settled down into his waiting but necessary att.i.tude of rest.

"A half-hour more of suns.h.i.+ne, and then these same pants will be the same as if they've niver saan water, barring it's mighty seldom they have or they wouldn't be in this dirty condition. Arrah! what can be the m'aning of that?"

Faintly but distinctly through the long stretch of woods came the sound of his name. It was repeated again and again until the Irishman was convinced beyond all possibility of mistake.

"What is up now?" he asked of himself as he drew in his line. "That is Mister Harvey's voice sure, and he is calling as though he was in a mighty hurry. Faith, and I must not linger! If anything _should_ happen whin I was away I'd feel wus'n old Boney at Watherloo whin he lost the day an' his crown."

The line was soon stowed away, and Teddy made his way at a half-walk and ran in a homeward direction. He had gone about a hundred rods when he paused and listened. Clearer and more distinctly came his name in tones whose earnest entreaty could not be mistaken. Teddy rose on his heels and made reply to the hail, to a.s.sure his master, if possible, that he was approaching with all speed.

The Irishman's words were yet lingering in his mouth, when another and more terrible sound reached his ears. It was that of a suppressed, half-smothered woman's scream--a sort of gasp of terror. It was so short and so far away that it was impossible to tell its direction. He stopped, his heart beating like a hammer, but he heard no more.

"G.o.d protect me, but there's something gone wrong at the cabin!" he exclaimed, das.h.i.+ng forward through the wood at a reckless rate. A few moments later it came in view, and he then saw his master walking to and fro, in front of the house, with the child in his arms. His manner and deathly pale face confirmed the forebodings of Teddy's heart.

"What's the matter, Mister Harvey? What's the matter?"

"_That Indian has carried Cora away_!" was the agonized reply.

"Where has the owld divil carried her?" very naturally asked the Hibernian.

"I do not know! I do not know! but she has gone, and I fear we shall never see her again alive."

"May me owld head be sc.r.a.ped wid a scalping-knife, an' me hands be made into furnace-grates for being away," e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the servant, as the tears streamed down his cheeks.

"No, Teddy, you are not in the least to blame, nor is it my fault,"

impetuously interrupted the missionary.

"Till me how it was, Mister Harvey."

The husband again became composed and related what is already familiar to the reader. At its close, Teddy dashed into the house and brought out his rifle.

"I'll murther that At-to-uck, be me sowl, and then I'll murther that haythen a.s.sa.s.sinator, an' iverybody that gits in me way. Be the powers of the saints and divils, but I'll murther somebody. May the divil roast me if I--"

"Hold!" said the missionary, who by this time was himself again. "The first thing to be attended to is pursuit. We must not lose a second.

We can never follow them ourselves through the wood. Hold the child, while I go to the village and get some of the Indians to help us."

Teddy took the child that had cried itself asleep, and the missionary started on a full run up the river. When he reached the settlement, it required but a moment to make his errand known. A dozen warriors volunteered at once, for these dozen would have laid down their lives for their faithful instructor. Many of the squaws also gave utterance to dismal howls upon learning what had befallen their pale-faced sister. Had the missionary chosen to tell the part taken by At-to-uck in the affair, it may be reasonably doubted whether her life would have been spared. But he was not the man to do such a thing. Knowing how anxious Teddy would be to partic.i.p.ate in the pursuit, he secured the wife of one of the Christian Indians to return with him, and take charge of the boy during their absence.

At the time of the missionary's visit, the chief and his princ.i.p.al warriors were absent on an expedition to the north. Although holding little interest himself in the mission of the minister among his people, he would undoubtedly have led a party to the search for the audacious savage who had abducted the respected white woman; and, had he been overtaken, a swift and merciless retribution would have fallen upon the trangressor's head.

Harvey Richter deemed it best to take but a few Indians with him.

Accordingly he selected five that he knew to be skillful, and with them hurried at once in the direction of his cabin. He saw with a sinking heart, as he returned, that the sun was already low in the horizon, and the woods were becoming dark and gloomy. Teddy was at his post chafing like a confined lion.

"This woman, Teddy, will take care of the boy, so that you may join us in the search."

"Bliss you for that! It would be the hardest work of me life to stay here when I thought there's a chance of gitting a whack at that thaiving villian. Oh, _if_ I could only git howld of him, I wouldn't l'ave a piece of him big enough to spit on."

"I think there's little probability of either of us obtaining a glimpse of him. We must rely upon these Indians to take the trail and follow it to the end."

"They're like the hounds in the owld country, barring they go on two legs an' don't stick their noses in the ground, nor howl whin they git on trail. They're mighty handy to have around ye at such a time as this, if they be savages wid only a spark of Christianity in 'em not bigger than a tobaccy pipe."

"It will be impossible, I think, for the savage to conceal traces of his flight, and, if there be any chance of coming up with him, these men will surely do so."

"But suppose Miss Cora should be tomahawked and--"

"Don't mention it," said the missionary, with a shudder.

While these words were interchanged, the Indians had employed the time more profitably in solving the meaning of the footsteps upon the ground. A slight whoop announced the trail's discovery, and when the missionary turned, he saw the whole five gliding off in a line through the woods. They went in "Indian file," and resembled a huge serpent making its way with all swiftness toward its prey.

Our two friends started at once after them. On reaching the edge of the Clearing Teddy asked, abruptly:

"If the haythen comes back to the cabin while we's be gone?"

"Impossible! he cannot."

"Spowsen he hides his track in that manner, he may take a notion to gobble up the little boy."

"He would not dare--"

Nevertheless, the remark of his servant alarmed the missionary, and he hesitated. There might be foundation for what had been said. The savage finding the pursuit too close to escape with his prey, might slay her and then return stealthily to the cabin and dispatch the boy.

It would not do to leave him alone with the Indian woman.

"I can afford little a.s.sistance in the hunt, and will remain behind.

Hurry on, Teddy, or they will be too far away for you to follow."

The Hibernian shot off through the trees, at a rate that soon exhausted him, while Harvey Richter returned within his cabin, there to keep company with his great woe, until the return of the pursuers brought tidings of the lost one.

An Indian on the trail is not likely to permit any trivial cause to turn him aside, and the five Sioux made rapid progress so long as the light in the wood allowed them to do so. This, however, was a comparatively short time; and, after progressing fitfully and uncertainly for several hundred yards, they finally drew up to wait until the morrow.